(story by Mir from WouldaCouldaShoulda)
As a child, I had terrible asthma. I was allergic to grass, mold, animals… probably air, too. So it wasn't too bad, because the asthma was only triggered by an allergen (and I was allergic to almost everything) or by exertion. Uhhhhh… yeah. It was pretty bad.
Of course, this was before the days of fancy medications, and coatings on pills, and suspension liquids of just about anything you might need to give to a kid. In addition to weekly allergy shots, I had two medications to take: an inhalant to use before gym (it involved placing a capsule of powder into a little device which, when closed, punctured the capsule; breathing in then spun a tiny fan that made a high-pitched propeller noise while dispersing the powder into the lungs, or maybe just all over the inside of my mouth), and the dreaded Marax.
Marax is no longer made in the U.S. because it contained ephedra (whoops!), but when I was a kid, Marax was the drug of choice for quick control of an asthma attack. It was also my kryptonite. The pills were huge (at least it seemed to me, as a child), white, and uncoated. Which meant that the moment you placed the pill in your mouth, it would begin to dissolve. And they tasted awful. And did I mention that I didn't successfully learn how to swallow a pill until I was in my teens? It is not an exaggeration to say that I would have rather asphyxiated during an asthma attack than take one of those. Every time, I would put it in my mouth, drink something, and as the pill caught in my throat and began to dissolve into bitter yuckiness, I would panic that I'd never be able to swallow it, plus I would start gagging on the taste, and all of this was usually accompanied by my frantic mother (who feared I was going to stop breathing without my medication) telling me to "just swallow it."
In fact, I quickly adopted the habit of never, ever mentioning that I was having any trouble breathing. My mother would look at me, sideways, and then tell me to come over and breathe in her ear. I would do so as lightly as possible, trying to keep the wheeze quiet, but she always knew. "I'm going to get you a Marax," she would say, while I wailed that I was fine, just fine! I didn't need it!
There was a 50/50 chance that I would work myself into enough of a frenzy during the pill-swallowing attempt that I would vomit. It wasn't any fun for anyone involved, is my point.
So: given those circumstances, what was a girl to do? Try not to have an asthma attack, of course! Because I knew exertion was quick to trigger me, I grew to loathe most physical activity, particularly running. Running always triggered me, and quickly. So I never did any sports; I loathed gym class; when the time came to in adulthood where I realized I should be more active, I chose yoga.
The thing is, I've all but outgrown my asthma. It's mild, now, and it's very rare for me to have a full-fledged asthma attack. But if I really exert myself? Instant trigger.
As I try to force my aging body to get comfortable with regular exercise, I'm realizing that my remaining asthma issues may be something more like sense memory or habit than a true health issue. But oh, the old temptation to stop what I'm doing (get off the elliptical, sit out during aerobics, whatever) because "I can't breathe" is very, very strong. I have a rescue inhaler, now, so really, I can just take a couple of puffs if I'm having trouble, and keep going. I don't have to stop.
I'm realizing that the little voice in the back of my head doesn't just say "I can't breathe," but it also whispers, "You're not strong enough," "You can't do it," and "Face it, you're weak." Up until very recently, I was not only listening, I was believing that.
And then I decided that it was just some remnants of that damn Marax, trying to get revenge. Because I can be strong, I don't have to be weak, and I'm going to keep breathing and keep going. Remind me of this the next time I want to stop and rest instead of pushing myself that extra lap, okay?
Did you have a weakness as a kid that haunts you today, even if only in memory? How do you get past it?
(read more Mir here. You'll be glad you did.)
I’m pretty convinced my seasonal allergies are all psychosomatic.
My parents divorced when I was 7 or 8, but even before then and even to me it was clear this was no marriage made in heaven. MY father wasn’t around much, so when he was, I did whatever I could to ingratiate myself to him.
He had bad summer allergies, and while I had none I remember walking around in Vermont and if I even saw a patch of goldenrod (which was thought to be the cause of my father’s sneezing, coughing and wheezing) I’d turn and say “daddy, I think this goldenrod is making me itchy and my eyes water and sneezy.”
I was convinced that if I was allergic to goldenrod too, it would show my father how much alike we were.
Well, as life would have it, I’ve got hayfever and I think it robs me of about 10% of my year each year. Fucking goldrenrod. I wish I wasn’t so much like my father, after all.
Report this comment
I didn’t have asthma but lots of sinus infections that required either the worst tasting medicine in liquid form ever (throw up causing taste) or a horse pill … it wasn’t until 8th grade I think I finally mastered taking pills and it was because of that stupid liquid. Wonder with the better tasting meds today if our kids will really have a need to learn haha.
We are struggling with asthma with our oldest, and probably our youngest. Hubby had it too and has outgrown it so we’ll see how it runs for them. Least there are better meds today!
Report this comment
Mine was chronic sinus infections, (which miraculously just STOPPED after the age of about 20)
Taking pills has never been my forte, I will suffer a headache for a WHILE before shoving an Advil down my gullet.
Report this comment
Oh the memories! I had one of those old pill type inhalers too. My other medication started out as a liquid that was so incredibly vile that it took two adults to administer it to my three year old self, one to hold me down and the other to hold my nose while pouring it down my throat. My mother convinced the doctor it would be less trouble to teach me how to swallow a pill. To this day, I can swallow a whole handful at one time but I will not take any liquid medicine. If I smell something that reminds me of it, I can still gag nearly 40 years later. Plus, for extra fun I had a gym teacher from 2nd to 7th grade that thought asthma was “all in your head” and took a sick delight in making fun of me and my wheeze in front of the rest of the class. And I wonder why I have such trouble getting motivated to exercise!
Report this comment
No asthma here, but taking pills! Such drama! I just couldn’t! I still remember my dad giving me medicine in powdered form, mixed with LOTS of sugar, just to make it go down. In grade school one of my classmates had some kind of chronic illness, and I felt so sorry for her. Not because she was in the hospital a lot, or because she had to miss so much school, but because she had to take pills! Many pills a day! The horror!
I finally learned to deal with pills when I accidently swallowed an M&M whole and noticed it went down just fine…
Report this comment
Mine was…
… um
… hypochondria. Seriously, I LOVED the idea of being ill – staying in bed all day? Doing nothing but reading? Sign me UP baby! And my poor mum who was blessed [cursed] with a vivid imagination and a useful inability to spot a lie (or a ginormous exaggeration) totally bought into it.
Trouble is as an adult I was so embarrassed by my childhood wimpiness and malingering that I swung violently in the other direction and have a very, very hard time believing I’m ever ill at all! I mean, I’m still breathing, right? I’m not twitching on the floor or anything, so how sick can I be?
A week ago I had a pelvic ultrasound for the (very palpable) mass I had been feeling for… some time… and as I swung up on the table I had this twingy concern that the lovely tech would do her thing and declare she didn’t know WHAT I was talking about as she didn’t see a thing!
She actually did see a thing – five quite large but benign things – and of course I hear benign which makes me think, ‘see? I just made all that fuss for nothing…’
Sigh, the sins of our youth, eh?
Report this comment
As a child, my mother swore what I was experiencing was sinus headaches. They started when I when I was four. I was 21 before I did an elimination diet and found out they were food induced migraines. Since I never knew when they were coming, I was taking aspirin on a nauseated stomach quite frequently. I learned at a young age to put the liquid I was using to swallow my pill into my mouth first and then the pill. No nasty taste… Then depending on whether the pill sinks or floats, you tilt your head forward or back to swallow. Works great. Fortunately, I very rarely get migraines any more due to my high blood pressure medicine which deters them. Plus, I no longer eat the foods that trigger them, if I can avoid them. To this day, my siblings are at a loss as to what to feed me when I visit. They remember the nights of sobbing when I couldn’t get rid of the pain. Once, when visiting my older sister, I felt a migraine approaching and she was visibly upset. We shared a room when we were young and she was afraid I’d have an long night ahead. Today’s medicines keep that from happening but it was interesting to see the affect it had on her.
Report this comment
I started having knee dislocations at the age of 13. Turned out I don’t have a patellar groove. I played competitive tennis, so it was very very hard for me to be laid up for weeks at a time unable to walk. I gave up tennis after round three of knee surgeries (not one knee, but both of them). I gave up all high impact sports after round 4 and 5 that put screws into my legs to stabilize my knees. Do we ever really get over things from our childhood since we still remember them so vividly? I can physically remember how it feels to dislocate a kneecap.
Report this comment
I also had asthma and TERRIBLE seasonal allergies as a child, but I was very hyper and went the opposite way as far as activity was concerned. My favorite place to be is outside, and they couldn’t keep me from running, playing, climbing trees, or jumping on the trampoline, no matter if I could breathe or not! I was in dance, gymnastics, track, cheerleading, aerobics, any kind of physical activity I could get into, and I also played the clarinet for 11 years. I only had asthma “attacks” as a baby, but exertion and outdoors definitely made me unable to breathe. My mom was a nurse but somehow I never got an inhaler until I was in high school! I started running track in high school so maybe that’s what prompted it. I did take a LOT of ephedrine and pseudo-ephedrine for the allergies as a kid, in Actifed or Sudafed, so I was all doped up in school half the year! Still made good grades somehow. Anyway, I would pretty much ignore the lack of oxygen until I was done with whatever activity I was enjoying, THEN once I was still enough to notice I was suffocating, I would start to panic. My mom would talk me through it, “Just try to be calm, concentrate and try to breath slowly, don’t panic, that will make it worse…” and even through the suffocation I would try to do that, get a grip on myself and not freak out. Looking back, I can see that taught me a LOT of mental and physical self-control and strength, and made me tough. I’m not afraid of much, I think because if you can make it through literal suffocation with some sort of mental clarity, most other things pale in comparison. I’m thankful my mom was able to help me through that without making a baby out of me. So, I see it as all to the good. She did make a big baby out of my little brother, and BOY am I glad that wasn’t me!!
Report this comment
I was labeled as having a “reactive airway disorder” as a child. My throat closed up in response to extreme temperature changes (coming inside after playing in the snow), to irritants like hairspray, and, to a lesser degree, sometimes physical exertion. I still remember the first time I used my rescue inhaler was not any of these typical situations; rather, I had bubbled into an asthma attack when my brother made me laugh too hard at the dinner table! It wasn’t the worst attack I’d had, but I was audibly gasping and wheezing so my father insisted on shoving the inhaler down my throat. I didn’t want it and was frightened by the novelty and pressure of it all. The trauma of that experience greatly deterred me from using my inhaler in the future. I’ll just drink some tea and wait it out, thank you very much!
I recently switched medical providers and my new doctor informed me that I must not actually have asthma, since I only use my rescue inhaler a couple times a year. I’m not really sure what to make of this …
However, a recent “wilderness challenge”-type hiking trip did really open me to the capabilities of my own body, which are far beyond what I give it credit for. So now if I want to avoid the running track, the only excuse I have is my own laziness!
Report this comment
Poison ivy was my persistent enemy as a child. I seemed to keep it all the time – I’d have huge, weepy patches of it on my face, arms, hands, between my fingers and toes (which the absolute worst place in my opinion).
It didn’t matter what time of year, whether I’d touched it or not. If someone tore it down or mowed it within a few hundred feet of me – I got it. If it was burned in a fireplace or campfire, look out.
I took untold amounts of Bendryl (when it was still prescription) and endless Medrol Dospaks. My saving grace was summer sunshine and swimming; for some reason that would clear a terrible case up quickly.
I’m virtually immune to it now…I’ll occasionally break out if I’ve actually touched the leaves. Go figure.
Report this comment
MARAX?! Haven’t heard that for 30 years!! What a memory it brings back! Thanks!!! ;0
Report this comment
I had childhood asthma before they had inhalers. (I’m in my late 40s) Hospital visits involved living in an oxygen tent. They finally gave us one to use at home. And the allergy shots, ack. I still have an insane fear of needles, and I still don’t run. Ever. I haven’t had an attack in years, but I notice that my family members with asthma tend to be symptom free in mid-life and then have problems as they age. Great.
Report this comment